Her, “You’re right, honey,” came instantly.
But now her voice sounded choked and Deke cut a glance her way to see she was fighting back laughter.
“I say something funny?” he asked the road when he aimed his eyes to it again.
“I’ve actually never heard the adjective ‘Darwinian’ used that way.”
“Right,” he clipped. With her humor back, deciding to put a line under that bullshit, he asked, “Now we goin’ to get you a TV, some beer, hittin’ the trailer to get our shit, hittin’ your house, settin’ up that mother, ordering pizza and kicking back with a movie?”
“Yes, Deke, that’s what we’re doing.”
“You’re right, that’s what we’re doin’,” he muttered irritably.
“I’m out of Baby Ruth bars,” she shared.
“We’ll get some of those too.”
“What’s your favorite candy bar?” she asked, now sounding just curious.
“That question is moot ’cause candy is candy and by definition it’s all awesome. Unless it has coconut in it. Then it sucks.”
“Right, no Mounds or Almond Joy, but I’ve got a taste for those new Butterfinger Cups. They’re like Reese’s Cups, just Butterfinger. And they’re so good, I think they’ve redefined awesome. So much so, I’m thinking of starting a letter-writing campaign for all candy bars to be made into cups. Baby Ruth Cups. 100 Grand Cups. Snickers Cups. KitKat Cups.”
“Gypsy, I already talked about little dogs and their sweaters with you today. I got a cap on how much ridiculous shit I can discuss in a week and that blew right past that cap. You want Butterfinger Cups, Baby Ruths, whatever, I’ll get ’em for you. Until the time that cap’s back on, we won’t talk about them and that means we can continue a candy bar to cup discussion sometime next weekend.”
“Okay, Deke.”
She was now just out and out laughing.
He had them back where they always were, he did what he did with Jussy.
Took advantage.
“We’re gettin’ you an eighty inch TV,” he declared.
Her hand jerked in his when she snapped. “We are not.”
“Eighty inches, HD, movies will seem like we’re watchin’ them in a theater.”
“We won’t be in a theater, Deke. We’ll be in my bedroom.”
They fucking would.
And after that night, them being there would have a different meaning.
“You’re loaded, Jussy. You get anything less than an eighty inch, they’ll take away your membership in the Rich As Shit Club.”
“I gave up that membership a long time ago. Most rich people are assholes,” she muttered, and he knew she was again looking out the side window.
He also felt his ribs constrict.
Most rich people are assholes.
Christ, yeah.
Like she was made for him.
“Eighty inches, babe.”
“Fifty, Deke.”
He was screwing with her about the eighty.
But fifty?
Was she insane?
“No fuckin’ way,” he shot back. “Eighty.”
“Okay,” she gave in on a sigh then shared she wasn’t giving in. “Sixty.”
“Eighty.”
“Deke!”
“Justice.”
She shut up.
Two minutes later, they turned into the freestanding electronics store outside the mall.
In the end, they got her seventy inches.
Deke thought it was a good compromise.
Justice made it clear that for him, she was just giving in.
Chapter Thirteen
Made for Me
Justice
The bed moved as Deke got out of it.
I didn’t move.
This was because this was the fourth time this had happened.
The first time freaked me out, and when he got back, it took him a while to calm me down by explaining that he was just checking things out and it was all good.
The second time freaked me out too, but when he got back, it didn’t take him as long to calm me down.
The third time, I woke, but fell asleep against him practically before he’d pulled the covers back over himself.
This time, enough was enough.
Shit, he was more freaked than I was about what might happen that night.
And if I didn’t already have enough evidence to prove that things had changed (in a big way) between Deke and me, that would have done it.
In fact, after all the drama died down and he settled me back into the new version of life that he was giving me—work on my place, home to his trailer, togetherness every second of the day (except the rare times he let me out of his sight, but only when I was with men he trusted)—it became clear to me.
No friend showed at a police station and lost his mind, bellowing a woman’s name, flipped out something had happened to her, and the instant he saw her, she was in his arms and held tight, versions of that closeness not ceasing for days that turned into a week.